


The Pesky Virginity Issue

by afteriwake



Series: Sherlolly Spring Fling - April/May 2018 [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, EVERYTHING GOES WRONG, F/M, First Conversation, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flatmate Molly Hooper, Flatmate Sherlock Holmes, Happy Ending, House Party, Kindred Spirits, Leftovers, Loss of Virginity, Molly Hooper/Mary Morstan Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Molly Hooper/Tom - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Rumors, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Virgin Molly, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14236431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: After Molly's engagement ends she decides she wants to rid herself of her virginity since that was a major cause of the dissolution of her relationship with her ex. When her friend Mary suggests she knows the perfect person, things don't go quite according to any sort of plan she may have had in her head...but it has a pleasantly surprising result nonetheless.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts), [theconsultingstrangevidder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theconsultingstrangevidder/gifts).



> So this took a year to answer, but it stems from a prompt from **MizJoely** that went " _I would love a NC-17/R rated Sherlolly first time uni or teenlock standalone fic!_ " I used a quote from **Hp Lyrikz** as a sentence starter (" _'Honestly, I don't need someone who sees the good in me. I need someone who sees the bad in me and still wants me.'_ ") This prompt was claimed by **theconsultingstrangevidder** for my Sherlolly Spring Fling this year, which is why I finally started it. Hope you all enjoy!

"Honestly, I don't need someone who sees the good in me. I need someone who sees the bad in me and still wants me." Molly Hooper leaned against the outer wall of the uni library and looked at her friend. “I mean, is that too much to ask?”

Mary Morstan shook her head. “Not really, love, no. But aren’t you just looking for a shag?”

Molly sighed, tilting her head back against the wall. “I suppose I should be less picky. But I mean, after everything...”

Mary nodded and put a hand on Molly’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Tom’s an arse, saying you were frigid as frozen cod,” she replied. “But it’s not like we’re still students at primary school. This is university! No one gives two craps about rumours.”

“As long as you’re willing to jump in the sack with them on the first bloody date,” Molly muttered before sighing again. “And it gets worse when they find out you’re a virgin. It’s like, either their eyes light up with this unwholesome glee or they run.”

“Then what you need to do is find yourself another virgin,” Mary said matter-of-factly.

The laugh Molly barked out was harsh. “A virgin? A _male_ virgin? In uni? That’s like looking for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.”

“Actually, I know one,” Mary said. “John’s best mate, Sherlock Holmes.”

Molly furrowed her brows slightly. “The chem major? With the curly hair?”

Mary nodded. “Yeah. He had a bit of a rough patch before uni with drugs, but he’s straightened himself out and is so concentrated on his studies that he doesn’t really notice anyone of the female persuasion.”

“How do you know he’s not gay?” Molly asked.

“Because he notices _you_ when there’s the house parties at my flat.” Mary smirked. “Trust me, some of the looks he threw Tom’s way would murder most men on the spot. I think he’d be more than happy to take your virginity if you offer to divest him of his. He’d probably shag you on the spot.”

“Can’t I get to...know him first, at least?” Molly asked. “I mean, all I know is what he’s studying and his hair. I know nothing else about him.”

“Then tomorrow, we’ll have dinner. Just the four of us,” Mary said. “He’s actually not a bad person, just too blunt for his own good. But I think you’ll like him well enough. If I wasn’t with John, I might offer to relieve his burden.” She pulled her hand off Molly’s shoulder and then checked the watch on the wrist. “Shit. I’m late for archery practice.” She leaned over and gave Molly a quick hug, one Molly returned. “Tomorrow, sixish, okay? Bring wine!”

With that, Molly watched Mary walk away and then Molly headed into the library to study. It had been one of the worst terms she’d had since entering uni after her father died, but she was muddling through to do her father proud. She’d thought she’d had everything, really: good friends, a fiancee that adored her and good grades.

But oh, her careful life had fallen apart when a girl on campus had come up and said she needed to talk. Over one of the most agonizing cups of coffee she’d ever had she found out her fiancee of a year had not only cheated on her with the other woman but gotten her pregnant as well. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell the woman he was engaged! And the row she and Tom had had…

She shut her eyes and stopped moving as she remembered how his “nice guy” facade had come crumbling down. And then there was the piece de resistance: he asked for the engagement ring back to give to his pregnant...slut. At least the stone had hit him in the eye when she threw the blasted ring.

And then to add insult to injury he started saying the end of the engagement was all her fault for her frigidity. She had thought he’d understood she wanted to deserve to wear white at her wedding. She’d promised her mum. And it didn’t seem to matter to him and the people he told. Eventually, she decided it shouldn’t matter to her, either.

But she wanted a relationship, not just a shag. And that was her major problem, apparently.

She knew she wasn’t a wonderful person all the time. She could zone in on her studies to the detriment of her social life, she cursed almost as well as a sailor and then there was the virginity issue. But surely she could get around those obstacles, couldn’t she?

Well, at least there was a dinner tomorrow. It’d be a chance to see if the Holmes bloke actually liked her or if it was another no-go. Either way, at least the food would be good.


	2. Chapter 2

She’d gotten so into her anatomy studies that it hit her at half-past five that she hadn’t done a damn thing to get ready for the dinner with John and Mary and...him. Sherlock. She was so nervous about the whole situation she had been trying to distract herself and had done _too_ good a job, apparently. But if she recalled, Mary had said six _ish_ , so as long as she showed up with a decent bottle of wine and no later than half past she should be fine.

But distracting herself had meant she put no time into anything: no time into planning an outfit or taking a shower or getting her hair and makeup ready. She had already made an impression on Sherlock, from what she gathered, but she hadn’t actually had a formal introduction and...well, first impressions should matter just as much if they weren’t _actual_ first impressions, shouldn’t they?

Her hair she didn’t do much with, just did it all up in a sleekish knot at the nape of her neck and secured it with the same type of velvet black ribbon as she usually wore as a choker. It wasn’t that she was trying to make a fashion statement but the plastic ones that looked like fake tattoos were so irritating, and it covered the scar from the accident.

Or, at least, the one around her neck.

She’d been late going to uni because of the accident, the one that cost her father his life trying to save her. Thank goodness for the crème her mum had found because she put it on religiously and could see the scars getting less and less every day. She knew some of them were never going to go away, not fully, but she’d managed to settle into shorter sleeved dresses and sundresses over white baby tees because the scars on her arm were so much lighter, so it was an improvement.

Yet another reason she’d held off on disrobing for anyone, male and female. She’d thought Tom understood, and yet…

She felt the familiar sting of tears and shook her head. She should be done with the crying, she shouldn’t have any tears left. He’d been there through it all, though, the accident and the recovery and then to just...just chuck it all away for a shag!

No.

No, she wasn’t about to allow herself to get depressed _or_ upset. Not over him. Not again. Not when she had a bloke who seemed to like her already, according to Mary. She just hoped Mary was right.

Eventually she had some semblance of a made-up face, a black floral sundress over a tee and paired with a shawl, and the last full bottle of wine in her flat. She’d drank far too much over the last month, she realized when she could only find one. Another thing she’d have to change. Not that she was a lush, but...too much was too much, and she knew that, and she had to be better at practicing that.

She dashed off to the street outside the building where her flat was and then made her way a few blocks over to where John and Mary lived. Mary had been in one of her first classes at uni and they’d hit it off instantly. John had been a good friend as well, and she spent almost as much time at their flat as she did at her own, mostly enjoying the good food that Mary and John both made. She would sometimes spend too much of her time so focused on her studies, feeling some strange need to play catch-up, and eventually, a call would come to come over, get a bite, relax and enjoy a film and some ice cream and all would be right with her world.

She felt so lucky to have such good friends, especially when they stayed true during this mess.

She made it to their place quickly and rapped on the door. Mary opened the door, a hopeful look on her face that crumpled a bit and then grew wide and bright almost seconds later as Molly felt someone come up behind her. “I thought John and I were going to have to eat all this lasagna ourselves but you both seem to have made an appearance after all.” She took the wine from Molly and then left Molly and the other guest on the doorstep.

She turned and looked up into the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen, partially obscured by a mop of curls. “You...must be Sherlock,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “And you’re Molly.” His voice was deep and warm and velvety, almost making her toes curl. He nodded towards the foyer. “Shall we?”

She nodded, stepping inside. Tonight could be a good night after all...


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a bloody disaster. Not her and Sherlock, exactly; neither of them had wanted to speak much. But John and Mary had gotten into a row over the middle of dinner and then John had stalked out, and Sherlock had followed John out after a shared glance between her and him to help their friends sort things out. It took an hour, but Mary got her irritation out as she and Molly ate the lasagna and John came back with a peace offering of Mary’s favourite dessert, and Molly knew it would probably be a good time to leave. She picked up the plastic container of lasagna she’d packaged up for Sherlock and then put it in his hands before practically pushing him to the door.

“She’s pregnant,” Sherlock said as they got outside.

“What?” Molly asked, her eyes wide with shock.

“Doubt she realizes it. But she is.” He looked at the container in his hands. “This...didn’t go according to their plan.”

“No, not really,” Molly said with a smile. “But it doesn’t have to be a bad evening. I have a loaf of French bread at home and I can make garlic bread just as well as they do. And...there’s ice cream?”

“Do you have ginger nuts?”

“I’m going through the end of an engagement, I have a bit of everything.” She nodded in the direction of her flat. “I’m not far. Do you have anyone who might worry if you’re out for a bit?”

“I got kicked out of my flat, so...no.”

“What happened?” she asked as they began to walk.

“I had a cow’s head in the refrigerator for a science experiment. Apparently, that was the last straw for them. I’ve been on my friend Victor’s couch, but he’ll be out all night. Won’t miss me.”

“I have eyeballs.” He looked over at her, this time with the surprise on his face. “I mean, in my refrigerator. I was doing a paper on glaucoma and I have an in with the medical school’s handler of donor bodies and so I’ll have a bit of extra help when I transfer but yes...eyeballs.” 

Sherlock gave her a grin. “You seem to be of like mind to me, which is...nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She tugged at the choker on her neck to loosen it a bit because suddenly she felt warm. He stared for a moment but quickly looked back at the plastic container, and she waited for the probing questions but got nothing but companionable silence until he changed the subject when he spoke again.

“Do you know if there’s space where you’re at?”

“Well, I have a spare bedroom, and I don’t think I’d mind a cow’s head in the refrigerator,” she said. “If you can help a bit with the rent, I think we could make it work.”

“My brother sends me money. I could probably cover the rent on its own.”

“No worries. I have some savings.”

“Neck?” She froze. “I mean, from the same reason…?”

“Yes,” she said. 

He nodded and took another step, and then she followed. “I won’t ask. If you ever want to tell me you can, but I won’t ask. It doesn’t appear to be something you want to talk about. I have plenty of things like that in my past.”

“Alright. Then you tell me if I edge on one of those topics and I’ll stop.” She grinned at him. “I take it we’ve gone from commiserating about how everything went wrong to hashing out a flatmate agreement.”

“Not how I expected the evening to go, but not an altogether bad thing,” he replied. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Oh, you like ‘Casablanca’?” she asked.

“That’s what it’s called?” Sherlock replied, shaking his head. “No. My brother had a habit of rewatching that particular scene over and over. I never saw the entire film.”

“Our first movie night, should you agree to one, we’ll watch it,” she said.

“I think a movie night could be...interesting,” he mused. “Though my taste is rather towards documentaries.”

“Then I’ll be in charge of the films until you decide to live dangerously.” She gave him a wide smile. “But you’re right. I _do_ think this will be a beautiful friendship.”

“Here’s hoping.”


	4. Chapter 4

They veered to get his things before heading to her flat, not that there was all that much. Sherlock appeared to kept personal possessions to a minimum, which wasn’t a bad thing. Her flat wasn’t stuffed, but it wasn’t decorated in a minimalist style either. She had the feeling they could deal with the addition of Sherlock to the lease in the morning, or perhaps the day after, but tonight was an attempt to make up for the disastrous set-up. At least he realized it was a set-up; that made the whole situation just a bit less awkward.

She went and sliced her loaf of French bread in half while he put his things in the spare room. She’d already had a bed and furniture in there but if he wanted to change anything she wouldn’t mind. When she had gotten the place with the spare bedroom she’d decided her guests would be at least as comfortable as she was, so there was good quality linens, a down comforter and comfortable pillows, all on a firm but not too firm mattress. If he liked it, he could keep it all and if he didn’t she’d just put it in storage until graduation and then take it wherever she went.

While she set about making the garlic bread, she looked around. It was fairly obvious a woman lived here, and by the fact her knickers and bras were about in the sitting room and loo, she had the feeling if he hadn’t been shocked by it that would bode well. If he was a slob she wouldn’t even mind, as the current state of the flat looked as though it had been hit by a hurricane.

“The bed is comfortable,” she heard him call from the bedroom.

“Pillowtop mattress,” she called back. There had been enough lasagna for Sherlock to have two servings, and she had some makings for salad in the refrigerator. If he wanted a fuller meal, she could provide it. “If you want your own furniture, though, feel free to swap it out.”

“No need,” he said as he came out of the room. “It will be sufficient.”

“Good.” She thought for a moment. “You know, not that I think a cow’s head would fit in one of those mini fridges, but so we don’t get our experiments and body parts mixed up, we could put a small refrigerator in your room.”

He gave her a small smile. “You really did take that part of the story well.”

She went to the refrigerator and then pulled out a small plastic receptacle. “Eyeballs, remember?”

“These are, indeed, eyeballs. And I can see glaucoma in one of them,” he said as he opened the lid. “This must be for an extra credit project.”

“I suppose you could say that,” she said. “What was the cow’s head for?”

“Personal curiosity,” he replied. “Honestly when you’re dealing with wounds, even facial lacerations, it’s better to have a pig’s head, but the butcher was out of pork when I went in.”

“Yes, pig skin does more closely resemble that of humans,” she said. “So for fun, you stab animals? Dead ones, obviously, but...”

“More for research. I may be a chem major, but my interest truly lays in the forensic sciences,” he said. “I just don’t want to make a full-time study of it.”

“That actually makes sense,” she said as she nodded. “Do you want to work in a crime laboratory? Even a chem major could do that.”

“I’m not entirely sure.” He put the lid back on the eyeballs and then handed it back to her before she stowed it in the refrigerator. “What specialty are you considering?”

“Pathology, perhaps forensic pathology. But I’m also interested in orthopedics.” She shrugged. “I still have time to make a decision.”

“As do I.” He looked around. “Do you mind smoke? I mean, me smoking?”

“On the balcony is fine. My ashtray is out there. Probably my lighter, too.”

“You smoke?” he asked.

“Old habit I thought I had kicked until the incident,” she said, the volume of her voice dropping.

“Is this one of the things I shouldn’t ask about?”

“No, no...I mean, I know you know who Tom was, at least in relation to me.”

“Your fiancee.”

She nodded. “He got another woman pregnant and then asked for his ring back to give to her. That led to having a bit too much to drink, leading to...” She gestured to the living room and the general mess. “This.”

“I see.” He thought for a moment. “I’m not the neatest person, but if we get the flat into a livable state again, I’ll do my part to keep it that way.”

She grinned at his use of we and then held out a hand for him to shake. “Deal.” He shook her hand and then went towards the balcony while she went back to making the bread. This may not actually be a bad idea, to be quite honest, to have him as a roommate. If he had other bad habits she reserved the right to change her mind, but this was a start to...something. She just wasn’t sure what.


	5. Chapter 5

They stayed up and talked as he ate. She ended up sharing some of her ginger nuts with him as she learned he had an older brother and sister, neither of whom he got on well with, he’d already attempted to solve cases when he was younger, but no one would listen to him and instead of it discouraging him it just fueled his desire to be heard, and he was currently single, though there had been a student here he’d had a dalliance (“not a relationship,” he insisted) with that had ended...not well when she’d been a bit too eager to divest him of his virginity. She kept that in mind because she knew Mary would still insist he was the best choice for divesting her of hers, but for now, at least she had what seemed to be a tolerable flatmate, and that was something.

She woke up the next morning to the smell of something nice and came out to see a small stack of Scotch pancakes. “I saw you were a baker and you had bicarbonate of soda and cream of tartar,” he said. “As thanks, but don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t,” she said. “I haven’t had these in an age.”

“I spent a few years in the States when I was young, as an attempt to...straighten me out, I suppose,” he said. “The head chef at the boarding school taught me how to make these when I had insomnia and would go to the kitchens while he was making breakfast. They taste better with buttermilk.”

“Lemon to milk,” she said. “I think. It makes a decent buttermilk substitute.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” He flipped another one of the pancakes and then waited for it to finish cooking and set it on another plate and put it in front of her. “I still tend to make these when I have insomnia.”

“How long have you been awake?” she asked. She knew she started her days early, but she wondered if he was worse on a regular basis or if this was a temporary situation due to being in a new flat, at least this time.

“Since two,” he said. “I just didn’t want to wake you by cooking earlier. Are you usually awake at five?”

She nodded, going to get a fork and knife and some butter as well. “I make a tidy sum editing various college papers, and it’s best to do it early in the morning rather than late at night. I’m an early bird anyway.” She pointed to the fridge. “That’s what the eyeballs are for. I’m editing the paper that goes with the experiment, but I think bits were off so I asked for the eyes myself to gather up notes to make sure the paper was correct.”

“That’s going beyond the extra mile,” he noted.

“It’s netting me an extra hundred quid,” she said with a smile. “I don’t need academic credit but I do need money. I have a tidy sum saved but there’s always that ‘just in case’ that I tend to worry about.”

He nodded. “That makes sense. And you had a wedding to save for.”

“How did you know I was going to pay for it?” she asked, surprised.

“I saw some of the things here. Wedding catalogs with inexpensive things circled. The bolts of fabric at the top of the linen closet. You were going to make your own dress.”

“Well, that would happen regardless,” she said. “I want certain things covered. I wouldn’t trust a regular dressmaker to see me like...that.”

“May I ask what happened, or is that still off limits?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She considered it. He was going to live with her, there was always the chance he’d see her starkers by accident and it was better to get the awkwardness out of the way now than later. “I was in an automobile accident during my gap year. I went partway through the windshield and almost lost the ability to speak, much less the ability to stay alive. I’m lucky the scars are all I have.” She paused and then removed the ribbon from around her neck. “The glass almost sliced my carotid artery.”

Sherlock nodded and then set the spatula down and turned, lifting up the back of his shirt. Her eyes widened as she saw thin white lines crisscrossed across his back. “Courtesy of my sister,” he said. “She’s institutionalized because of it. I nearly bled to death before my brother found me.”

“Are those whip marks?” she asked.

“Among other things,” he said. “I don’t...tend to show them, so don’t say anything. I trust you.”

“If we’re talking trust...” She reached for the hem of her long sleeves nightshirt and lifted it off. She usually tended to sleep in a sports bra for comfort even now, but the scars on her arms and breast tops and torso were clearly visible. Some were still an angry red but the crème her mother had given had at least managed to get the ones on her arms to lighten somewhat. “Now you have the full picture.”

He let his eyes rake down her body from her neck to the top of her pyjama bottoms. “Not on your legs?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Only my torso went through the windshield. My father...he was bleeding internally but he managed to put pressure on my neck until we were found. He passed before we got to the hospital. His dying act was to save my life.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sherlock said. He nodded to her sports bra. “I won’t judge if you want to walk around in that if it gets too hot.”

She gave him a small smile before reaching for her shirt. “I think I might do that when it’s just us. The only other person who’s seen the extent of these is Mary and that’s because she undressed me after a party when we first started and I was too pissed to do it myself. She’s offered to rub the crème I use on my back in hopes they’ll fade too, but...maybe you could?”

“Could I perhaps borrow some?”

She nodded. “I’ll have my mum send an extra tube and I’ll get your back. It doesn’t make them all disappear but most of yours are lessened so maybe it will work better for you.”

“Thank you,” he said. He gestured to the pancake. “It’s getting cold.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” she said, giving him a wider smile before getting the things she needed and digging in. This...boded better than she had ever expected it to, surprisingly. Maybe her life was looking up after all...


End file.
